


My Good Loud Neighbour

by Kaapp



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Unilock, Young Sherlock, first meeting AU, two dorks, young john - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 10:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13785111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaapp/pseuds/Kaapp
Summary: John just moved into his new flat when he discovers he has a loud neighbour who likes to play music in the middle of the night. But when he goes to knock on his door to complain "oh what a surprise he is quite handsome". John might let him get away with it then.





	My Good Loud Neighbour

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This idea came from watching the Ikea commercial where this blond girl keeps having parties at her apartment and is being super loud and her neighbour is sick of it and keeps knocking on her door asking for her to be quieter and by the end she has a crush on him and asks him to enter her flat and have a date. 
> 
> I didn't really follow exactly the same plot but I liked the concept and adapted to Johnlock and tried to get the most of it. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy :)

It had been about over a week since John had moved into his new flat, and when he finally got to meet his upstairs neighbour who loved to play loud music at odd times of the night, messing with John’s sleep schedule.

The first few times, John let it go. He didn’t move a muscle, he was way too tired. He only turned over in his bed, put a pillow on his head and tried to fall asleep, he had come back from a tiring long shift at work, after one busy day at uni. He was dead on his feet so music or not he’d sleep like a rock.

One night, though, studying at his desk for his finals, the music was getting on his nerves. It was loud, frenetic, demented. High screeches could be heard as if a cat was being tortured and ripped apart. John was going mad. His focus gone, his temper up, he stood up aggressively and walked out of his flat determined to put an end to this. Enough was enough.

He walked upstairs, heading towards the sound coming from the flat 221. When he reached the door he pounded on it loudly and the music suddenly stopped. John let out a breath of relief, his headache already disappearing. Then the door opened and a curly head step out and said in a posh accent that John wasn’t expecting,

“Yes?”

“Do you have any idea how loud you are being?!” John asked. Steam could almost be seen coming out of his ears.

 

The stranger frowned, curious about this new creature in front of him. He gave John a once over from head to toe and that’s when John realised he was barefoot on a stranger’s doormat, dressed in a worn out t-shirt and old pyjama trousers. Not the best impression he could give but then, why would he care, he was mad and he wanted the music to stop, he didn’t come over for tea and make friends. However, John pondered, it wasn’t a very good way to introduce yourself to a dazzling stranger whose stunning eyes were scrutinizing him.

 

“Apologies,” the stranger finally said in a deep baritone voice as if melted chocolate, “I get lost when I’m thinking.”

“Well can you try to think more quietly? I’m trying to study.” John retorted hands on his hips.

“Yes of course.” The stranger bent his head as if guilty, “Again I apologize.” His eyes met John’s and the former could swear the time stopped for a while.

“Thanks,” John managed to speak out after a long pause, “Just turn your stereo down for the night please, most people sleep at this hour of the night.”

The stranger smiled, “Noted, no more violin for tonight.”

“Thanks.” John smiled at him, walking away.

 

Sherlock started closing the door as slowly as he could, eyeing his new acquaintance lower back as he walked away. What a good view, Sherlock hummed to himself. Square shoulders, head held high, short blond hair, nice bottom, athletic kind, probably played for a university sports team, probably on scholarship giving his cheap accommodation.

Sherlock observed him turned around the corner to finally close the door, he looked at his violin and bow dropped on the couch where he left it to answer the door. Well since he couldn't  play tonight he would finish his experiment and at the same time catalogue all the small details that he had gained access to from that beautiful specimen that he had just met.

He smirked to himself, he should try to play louder next time in order to meet him again.

* * *

The annoying music came back again two weeks later, late at night. However, this time the violin was being played in a way that revealed a real slow and passionate melody. No cat was being tortured, and if John was honest with himself it was quite pleasing to hear. The music wasn’t as much as a bother as it was the other night, but John saw this as an opportunity and very good excuse to go complain once more to the devilishly good looking upstairs neighbour, after all, what harm could it do?

 “I’m sorry, have I disturbed you again?” Was the first thing John heard once the door opened.

The man in front of him seemed surprised to see him again, his eyes widened and his mouth opened as if astonished. _Man, those lips, it almost seems they were made to be around my co- John! focus here._ He cleared his throat and focused on those blue eyes instead of his wonderful cupid shaped mouth.

“Huh,” he was quite lost for words, “Yes, I mean no you didn’t disturb me much, just a little bit...I mean, it’s okay. I was listening and I just wondered what’s the music playing on your stereo. I find it quite relaxing. I read instrumental music is the best type to keep you focus while studying. And I thought, er...I might use your playlist, I mean if you are willing to share of course...” He rambled.

 

“Oh. Well….” The handsome man ran a hand through his hair, “It’s an original,” He admitted, “I compose when I’m in one of my moods, it helps me think, my mind seems to unlatch and I’m able to express my feelings.”

“Wait, you were playing that music?” John asked amazed. _Could he be even more perfect?_

“Of course.”

“Whoa, that was great!”

“Oh, Thank you.” John thought he could see a semblance of a blush creeping on his neighbours’ neck.

“Just maybe next time try to practise during the daytime. The neighbours, apart from me, will appreciate.”

“I thought you were complaining about my music being too loud…” A semblance of a teasing could be found in the musician's voice.

“Yeah, well only fools don’t change their minds,” he said sheepishly to which the stranger smiled and John could see his cheeks becoming reddish.

“Unfortunately my inspiration comes rarely during the daytime.”

“Too bad, maybe you should try to play some ballads Mr…”John trailed out realising he didn’t even know his name.

“Holmes, The name is Sherlock Holmes.” He said going for a handshake.

“Maybe you should try to play more ballads to make us all fall asleep, Mr Holmes, rather than keeping us awake.” John winked, taking his hand. He’d try to hold to the memory of this touch for as long as he could.

“Perhaps, I should.”

“I’m John, by the way,” he said letting go of Sherlock’s hand.

“John who?”

“That’s me to keep, and you to find out,” He winked, as he ended to handshake and started walking away, towards his own flat.

 

Back in the flat, John closed the door and slapped himself mentally.

 

_What the hell was that?!_

_What were you thinking, flirting with this man?_

_Oh god, he is way out of your league Watson._

_And way too gorgeous too._

_And probably not even gay._

John let out a sigh of resignation, banging his head in a thump against the door.

_Fuck._

John shook his head at his stupidity, as he went back to his desk. He put the blame on the lack of sleep. In his right mind, he would never try to flirt with a stranger, especially without being 110% sure that the person in question was into him and most importantly into guys.

He tried to regain his focus back in order to study but his mind kept being distracted by his encounter with the man. It was the only thing he could think about. He wondered what he could be doing at the moment. Was he in his bed? Maybe thinking about John? _Oh please get a grip on yourself, you just met him twice and it was to complain about his music, he couldn’t care less about you._

Although, he had really lovely lips. What would they taste like? And John would love to run a hand through his neighbour’s marvellous curly hair and to caress his fair skin, to get lost in his alluring eyes before leaning in for a slow and passionate kiss.

 _God, I’m completely screwed,_ he thought.

* * *

 

 A few days later, Sherlock was pacing in front of the entrance door of their building, besides the mailing boxes, waiting for John to come back from wherever he might have been. He couldn’t even be sure that John was out but given the time of the day and the fact that it was Wednesday, there was a big probability that the would come back soon or later.

 So, Sherlock had the good idea to try to meet John by “accident” and start a conversation that could lead to more. He had been waiting for almost an hour now, trying to look as nonchalant as possible if John ever entered the building and found him.

 Sherlock had already walked up and down the stairs a million times in order to accidentally encounter this “new” acquaintance, he was about to give up this stupid idea when John finally appeared by the front door.

 

And _Oh._

 _What a sight!_!

It made all this effort worth it. _So very worth it._

 John, all sweaty, blond hair a mess. His black striped yellow shirt that had seen better days, muddy and torn. _Rugby player then_ , Sherlock thought.

 John was carrying his sports bag over one shoulder and looking devilishly delicious with his hair sticking to his temples. And did he mention the shorts? Green _tight_ shorts that emphasised John’s strong tights of well-defined muscles due to years of playing rugby. It took Sherlock’s breath away.

 John who hadn’t seen him till then, looked up as he climed the stairs and smiled broadly when he saw Sherlock.

“Hi there,” he said with all his white teeth showing.

“Hello,” Sherlock managed to say in a cracked voice, his mind blank. _Here it goes the idea of starting a conversation...  He couldn’t even say a proper hello without his knees turning into jelly and his tongue becoming numb._

 John kept smiling as he passed beside Sherlock to climb up the stairs. Sherlock couldn’t help but close his eyes as he felt John’s body graze his and then opened them up to follow John’s backside with his eyes as he ascended the stairs.

_He definitely liked those shorts._

_And he definitely was going to play his violin as loud as he could tonight._

* * *

 

It has been weeks since their encounter on the stairs, and Sherlock was desperate for John’s attention. They hadn’t managed apart from a few conversations to really get to know each other and Sherlock as too much of a coward to ask him out yet. So, for now, he would let himself daydream while playing the violin by the window.

He wondered if John would be rather a rough lover or a soft, worshipping kind of partner? What if right now, John knocked the door down, took the violin from Sherlock’s hands and pushed him against the window, grasping his hands above his head and kissing him with passion.

_That would be nice..._

He’d trail kisses along his jaw and neck, leaving bruises, he’d let go of Sherlock’s hands but would order him to not move them or else… Sherlock closed his eyes emerging himself into the fantasy. John would tear his grey shirt apart and kiss him all over. _Yeah, rough would be good right now._ Sherlock sighed. Sherlock was so into his dreams that he didn’t hear the knock on his door.

_Yes John, finally._

What a disappointment when it wasn’t him.

 Lestrade stood there, out of breath, his coat soaked from the pouring rain outside, pleading for his help.

“They left a note this time.”

“Show me.” Sherlock’s mind came back to reality. His logical side taking over, _the game was on_. He had work to do. He got his coat from the coat rack just beside the door and followed Lestrade.

 

They met John on their way out as they descended the stairs. It seemed that he was coming back from the library by his backpack and his damp hoodie covering his head.

They nodded at each other in greetings as they passed each other.

 Reaching the door, Sherlock stopped in his tracks suddenly, as he had an epiphany.

“John,” He called as John turned around curious while a very confused Lestrade hanged by the door.

“You’re a medical student,” Sherlock stated.

“Yes,” John replied.

“You’ve seen a load of dead corpses then.” Sherlock walked closer as if drawn by a magnetic field, staring down at John.

“Yeah, lots.” John swallowed with difficulty, his eyes staring into Sherlock’s.

“Would you like to help solve a murder?”

“Oh God yes.”

 

* * *

 

After their first case together, things started to improve. They had exchanged cell phone numbers and had had longer conversations by text than any other time face to face. They kept meeting each other from time to time walking out or into the building. Sherlock had by then memorise John’s daily habits but didn’t want to seem like a stalker so he tried not to meet him too often or look suspicious. They also had met for coffee a couple times.

 Their time spent together during the case, the thrill of the chase, it only made Sherlock want him more. John had something that others didn’t, something that drew Sherlock to him.

Tonight he was playing a recent song that John had told him he liked, after having searched on youtube a violin cover in hopes to bring John back to his door and possibly into his flat for the first time.

_God, how desperate am I?_

He was acting like an infatuated middle school teen with his first crush. However, his plan worked perfectly. Soon enough there was knock on the door.

 

“Hey,” John greeted when Sherlock opened the door.

“Hello John, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Sherlock asked innocently, trying not to look too much pleased with himself. John couldn’t know he had done this on purpose.

“Nice song you were playing.” He said, he seemed a little bit nervous as he trailed a hand over the back of his neck.

“Thank you.” He said in false modesty.

“You play really well, this music reminds me of…”

“Yes,” Sherlock cut in, “Probably, it’s a very famous one. Maybe one day, you’ll let me play for you.”

John looked up at him and smiled broadly

“Yes, I’d like that.”

Sherlock couldn’t help but smile back.

“Maybe after a date?” Sherlock prompted, _It’s now or never,_ “We’ll eat out, I know an Italian place, the owner owes me a favour, the food is great and after dinner, we’ll come back to my place and I’d play for you. What do you think?”

John could only blink.

 

He had been trying to come up to Sherlock’s door for weeks now, trying to gain his courage to invite him out and Sherlock had just done that for him. This gorgeous man was asking him out and John's brain couldn't process that piece of information.

 

“John?” Sherlock called, his silence making him panicking, “John, you still with me?”

“Sorry,” John shook his head, coming back to earth, “Yes, Of course. I’d love to go out with you. Name the place and the hour and I’ll be there.”

“Angelo’s, 7 pm. Tomorrow night?” Sherlock proposed.

“I’ll be there.” John gave him his best joyful smile, showing how impatient he was for their date.

**Author's Note:**

> I know the end is so-so... I might write a second chapter that focuses on their date and how they get home and what it might lead to something. ^_^


End file.
